


38. Antony and Stephen make things permanent

by glitteredsins, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Antony Starr and Stephen Amell [38]
Category: Actor RPF, Arrow (TV 2012) RPF, Banshee RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), New Zealand Actor RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 06:25:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4554195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteredsins/pseuds/glitteredsins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Warnings for physical and verbal humiliation, (fake) gunplay, boot worship and cbt - all towards the end and after the ceremony so easily avoided</p>
    </blockquote>





	38. Antony and Stephen make things permanent

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for physical and verbal humiliation, (fake) gunplay, boot worship and cbt - all towards the end and after the ceremony so easily avoided

Standing back, Antony takes a good long look at the table for two set up in the dining area of the suite. Candles, fine china, champagne already chilling in the bucket beside the table. Custom menus on the plates with a special dessert arranged. He glances at his watch and around the rest of the suite, the door to the bedroom open a crack, the living area pushed over for dinner and the ceremony after. Two large square velvet boxes on the coffee table beside the folder containing the final version of their permanent contract. And of course, there's Antony himself, dressed to the nines in a black suit, black tie, white shirt, platinum cufflinks. Louis standing by somewhere, waiting for his text.

At first Stephen had been pissed that he'd been called in on a Saturday, on _this_ Saturday, especially when he'd made it clear weeks ago that he'd be unavailable; but then he'd gotten sick, and missed so much work. Now, however, Stephen's glad for the distraction, he's working through a fight scene with their resident choreographer and he has to concentrate or risk getting his ass kicked - which is the very last thing he wants. Turning up to his collaring with bruises not put there by his Sir would be bad manners to say the very least.

By late afternoon he's done, and he takes the time to shower and clean up before leaving and heading toward the club. It's on the drive over that the nerves kick in...when his belly starts to twist in knots, and his mind starts telling him that Antony will have changed his mind, that this was all a mistake and he'd like to just extend the contract by three more months, thank you very much.

"Jesus fuck dude, get a grip," Stephen rumbles to himself as he turns the car into the Citadel compound and pulls up to the valet service.

He grabs his bag from the passenger seat, hands over the keys with a distracted 'thanks' and makes his way inside.

As the minutes tick down, Antony starts to pace a little. Everything's done, in its place, there's nothing left to occupy his thoughts, keep him from getting wound up. Which is funny. Because if there's one thing Antony known for, it's a certain calm cool collectedness. Being unfazed in the face of everything and anything. Except this, he guesses. It's like Stephen said. Like getting hitched, the commitment every bit as serious, every bit as permanent and look, there's even that bit of paper everyone talks about.

Stephen stops off to change, he'd been told 'dress nice', but that could be anything from a nice shirt and pants to a suit and tie...so he'd opted for what he'd have chosen for a dinner date - a nice suit, mid grey, with a white shirt and a dark blue patterned tie. He stares at himself in the mirror for a moment, straightens his tie a touch more and then blows out a breath.

"Let's do this," he murmurs to his reflection. He reaches for the small jewellery box and tucks it in his inside pocket, shoves all his other clothes into his bag and takes it out to reception to be sent up later. Then he's off, up in the elevator, down the hall, until he's stood in front of the suite door.

Another deep breath, and then he knocks.

Antony opens the door, eyes sparkling, a wide easy grin curving his lips. "Hey," he says, pulling Stephen into the room and into his arms, inhaling his lover's scent as he hugs and kisses him. "You look good. How was your day?"

"Hey," Stephen returns, wrapping his arms around Antony and hugging him back. "Yeah it was interesting...I avoided a black eye by just about this much," Stephen leans back to showed pinched fingers, he grins wide and easy, "I didn't think you'd appreciate that today of all days."

"Someone else leaving marks on my boy?" Antony glowers playfully for a moment before breaking back into a grin. "Are you hungry? Or do you want a drink to start?"

"A drink would be great, something to calm my nerves a little," Stephen admits, squeezing Antony's arm, when his lover steps back, he gets to give Antony the once over. He lets out a low whistle of appreciation. "You look seriously hot."

"Thanks," Antony murmurs, glad he made the choice to dress up. He moves to the bar. "Scotch?"

"Yes, please, just a single though." He knows too well Antony's habit of free pouring when it's just the two of them. While his lover moves away Stephen gets to give the room a once over - it's....romantic in vibe and that has Stephen smiling. He wanders over to Antony, one arm spread to indicate the room.

"Hey, your 'romantic' is showing again," he teases softly, "Just thought I should warn you...we've got your reputation to think about, remember?"

"That's true," Antony says, pouring singles for them both. "Maybe we should forget dinner. I could just throw you over my shoulder and drag you back to my lair."

"There was me assuming you had that planned for later anyway," Stephen laughs, taking the glass when Antony offers it.

"Some version of it, definitely," Antony murmurs, clinking their glasses together. "To us."

"To us," Stephen replies, his teasing fading in the face of Antony's clearly serious demeanour. He raises his glass and takes a drink, letting the scotch play over his tongue before swallowing with an appreciative hum.

"I can't believe this day is finally here," Antony says with a smile, watching Stephen.

"In the scope of us, or in general?" Stephen moves toward the sofa that's been pushed over to one wall to make way for the dinner table.

"Us." Antony takes a seat beside Stephen. "I knew almost right away that I wanted more than three months."

"You did?" Stephen muses on that for a moment. "I don't think I really started to accept that this was it, that you really meant to do this until three days ago," Stephen turns to look at his lover, referring to the very intimate sex they'd had.

"Even though I told you back in Fiji to say when not if?" Antony asks. "Why? Was it me or just past experience?"

"Even after Fiji, I didn't dare let myself believe it." Stephen's shoulder lifts in a half shrug. "That was like a dream, hot guy, amazing dominant, beautiful vacation...and it wasn't you, it's never been about you. It was historical shit."

Antony nods. He gets it. Emotional baggage. The shit people do to each other, sometimes on purpose, sometimes without even realizing they're doing it, and that all gets mixed up with how a person feels about themselves in the first place. "And now? Any doubts?"

"About us? No, I wouldn't be here if I did," Stephen admits. "I wouldn't have moved in either, I still have issues about living up to how you seem to perceive me, as a boy...but that's my shit to work through, time will take care of that, time and my trust in you."

"I think as long as we keep talking to each other, _telling_ each other when we're worried, stressed, whatever, we'll be good," Antony says, not that he really knows. He's never lived with anyone, never let anyone into his life like this, but it feels right, like it was meant to be and as much as he's a planner, there's also a portion of him that operates on instinct and it's never failed him yet.

"Sounds like a plan," Stephen agrees, because he's as out of his depth here as Antony is. "Or muddle our way through it," he finally cracks a grin.

Antony laughs. "Yeah, that works too," he says, reaching for Stephen's hand. "Are you hungry?"

"Starving," Stephen nods, smiling. "Several hours of hand to hand will do that to a guy."

"Yeah." Antony nods. He knows all about that. "You should have a look at a menu then," he says, letting go of Stephen's hand to get up and grab one from the dining table. He hands it over. "And you can tease me some more," he adds with a smile, obviously fine with that.

Taking the menu, Stephen gives it a quick once over, the beautiful paper, the hand inked wording. He glances up at Antony, torn between the teasing that Antony is expecting, and something entirely more serious.

"Wow...just...wow." He blows out a soft breath. "You're spoiling me," he smiles, the affection he feels for his man, clear in his eyes. "It's this sort of thing that makes me wonder what I did to get so lucky, or when I'm going to wake up," he admits.

Antony smiles. "My mum and dad, they've been married for a long time and my dad's always left her notes and brought her flowers, held her hand... I like that they're still in love, not just phoning it in."

"Is that what we have? A long haul thing?" Stephen looks back down at the menu, at their names side by side at the top. "A forever thing?" he muses so softly it's more for himself than his lover. Because Stephen's never let himself think that he'd ever have a 'forever thing', even now.

"I hope so," Antony answers honestly. "My dad knew the moment he met my mum but it took a little longer for her. She didn't trust it, not him, but she'd been in some bad relationships before. She thought he'd figure out she had more baggage than he wanted to deal with but he didn't care. He knew she was the one."

Stephen's heart's hammering hard as he looks up again, Antony still stood over him. "Am I your 'one'?" he asks hesitantly, even though Antony's told him he loves him, that he's collaring him with no end date...just a future.

Antony nods. "Yeah, you are."

Stephen's gaze falls away, and he takes a deep breath. Then blows it out slowly, there's a loosening in him, a tension bleeding away that he's been carrying for so long he'd stopped feeling it, a loneliness he’d learned to live with it.

"Sit," he murmurs, patting the seat beside him. "Sit down with me a moment." He reaches in to his inside pocket and pulls out the ring box.

"I bought this...and ever since I've been freaking out that it's too much, or you'll hate it, or something...and I totally get you probably can't wear it all the time, and that's fine..." Stephen suddenly snaps his mouth shut and hands over the box.

Heart pounding, Antony holds the box in his hand for a moment before opening it but when he does, his eyes widen and his chest tightens and he nods. "It's beautiful," he says, taking in [the silver ring with its unusual black stones](http://citadel.mediawood.net/antonyring.jpg). "What's it set with?" he asks, pulling it free from the box.

"The band is meteorite, the stones are black diamonds." Stephen watches Antony pick up the ring, concentrating on his hands, his fingers rather than looking at his lover's face. "I saw it and it was unusual, special...and I wanted to get it for you, even though I've never seen you with any jewellery other than the tags."

"It's gorgeous," Antony says, turning it over and checking it out from all the angles, a smile flashed at Stephen. "Which hand do you want me to wear it on?"

That's a question that takes Stephen aback somewhat, a moment of confused consideration then he brushes his fingers over Antony's right hand. "This one."

Antony slides it onto his right ring finger, holding his hand out for them both to see. "I love it. It's perfect," he tells Stephen, leaning in to kiss him deeply.

Stephen's smiling when Antony presses his mouth to his, he reaches up to slide his hand around the back of Antony's neck, he kisses his lover back just as deep, just as hard.

Finally drawing back with a smile, Antony cups Stephen's cheek, gazing into his eyes for a moment. "You still have to wait til after dinner for your collars," he teases.

"I can wait," Stephen grins. "What's a couple more hours?" At which point his belly rumbles, making them both glance down and then Stephen's laughing. "Ugh, talk about ruining a moment, I'm sorry."

Antony laughs too, eyes crinkling at their corners. "No worries. Figure out what you want from the menu and I'll call down."

Stephen picks up the menu he'd discarded and scans it quickly, "Oh it's easy, Crab Cakes, the Seafood Gnocchi and Heart of Romaine salad, pretty please," he smiles, bright and easy at Antony.

Antony calls down to the kitchen with Stephen's order and his own - shrimp, chop house and filet mignon - then settles back into the couch again, his arm around Stephen's shoulders. "They said the first course would be up in about twenty."

Leaning in Stephen drops a hand on Antony's knee. "So, what's the time table tonight? Dinner, collaring and then lots of filthy sex?" He looks intrigued and hopeful all at once. "I'm assuming you'll want me in role for the rest of the night, once I'm collared?"

Antony nods. "That's the plan. Louis'll come in for the collaring, witness our signatures," he says with a smile, resisting the ever-present urge to molest his lover, his boy, now.

///

Eyes firmly on his dish as the server sets his dessert in front of him, Stephen glances up at Antony and grins - an intimate knowing smile. This is _their_ dessert, first eaten here at Citadel, and entirely appropriate for tonight. "Thank you," he murmurs, as the waiter retreats to leave them in peace. It's been a beautiful meal, full of laughter and teasing, and Stephen finds himself entirely seduced all over again.

"More champagne?" Antony asks, lifting the bottle from the bucket. He's thrilled with how tonight's gone so far, the meal perfect, the service exquisite, and the company... well, the company is the best, overshadowing everything else.

"A little," Stephen picks up and offers his glass. "Thank you." When his glass is topped up Stephen leans back in his chair. "Will I still be treated like this ten years from now?" he asks, teasing, but also testing for himself how it feels to talk long term plans with a partner. "Twenty years from now?"

"I certainly hope so," Antony says, setting the bottle back in the ice. "I can't imagine ever taking you for granted and if I do, you should tell me." He smiles. "It might not be _quite_ at the level it is right now, but trips, gifts, notes, special dinners... I like making you smile, spending time with you."

"Hmm, maybe I will have to keep sending you out to work, just to keep me in the lifestyle I'm likely to become accustomed to," Stephen winks over the rim of his glass. Then he tilts his head in question. "And you, what do I need to do to keep you happy?"

Antony laughs. He has more money than they could ever spend, meant more that the passion in any new relationship... well, it maybe mellows a _little_ over the years. "Me?" He takes a minute to think. "Be happy to see me come home, stay interested in travelling with me, still _want_ me even as the years pass..."

"I will _always_ be happy to see you come home, safely," Stephen assures his lover. "And as to the travel? We could travel every month for the rest of our lives and still have new things to see." He sets his glass down and sets his hand on the table, palm down. "I cannot imagine not wanting you, you and I...we work."

Antony reaches out, placing his hand over Stephen's. "Yeah, we do, and we both know how rare that is."

Stephen nods, his gaze drawn to their hands, to the ring on Antony's finger. "Yeah, yeah it is," he agrees. After another moment Stephen takes a deep breath. "C'mon, let's eat, because these are too damned good to let the ice cream to make it soggy," he lifts his eyes to meet Antony's.

Antony chuckles and digs in, groaning with pleasure. "They must pay their chefs a fortune," he says. "I have never had a bad meal here."

"Hmm," Stephen nods around his own mouthful. When he swallows he looks over at Antony and grin playing over his mouth. "Ever had a bad fuck here?" he asks.

Choking a little on his brownie, Antony laughs. "A couple. Over the years."

"Just a couple?" Stephen's brow arches, the unspoken 'with how much you put it around', clear in his expression. "And ever met anyone bigger than you?" Stephen takes a perverse pride in the size of his lover's cock. He's clearly in a playful but sexy mood.

Antony shakes his head, amused. "Not yet, and most fucks have /something/ to recommend them, although I might be erring on the generous side when I say a couple. More like a few, maybe even a half dozen that really stand out."

"The worst one," Stephen pushes, spooning up more brownie and ice-cream, which he's clearly savouring.

"The worst? God." Antony sits back, spoon in hand, thinking. "There was this guy I picked up years ago, in the bar, really gorgeous, talked an amazing game while we were in the bar, wanted me to humiliate him the way I do you. Said push me, I can take it, and we got up here and I did and he safeworded, bawled his fucking head off, which would have been okay - different people have different definitions of being pushed - but then he insisted I fuck him and he cried about that too, said I was too big, and then he wanted to suck me off, at which point he couldn't handle that either so I ended up with a fucking awful hand job and a guy who couldn't stop crying, and because he was so fucking upset, I ended up spending the night with him until I could be sure he was okay and not going to have a fucking nervous breakdown."

Stephen bursts out laughing, before covering his mouth with a barely coherent 'Oh sorry!'. When he calms he picks up his drink and takes a sip. "He cried at your dick? That's so fucking funny, I've never been a size queen before, but I adore how big your dick is."

Antony grins. "I'm glad. I've had more than a few people say no when they saw it. Not that I counted them in the bad fucks, because we didn't even get there," he says, shaking his head.

"Have you had anyone seek you out just because you're so big? You must have met some size queens before?" Stephen's finishing up his dessert - and hoping there might be seconds for later - after they've played.

Antony's grin widens and his cheeks heat a little. "Yeah, I've had a number of those too. People aren't exactly quiet around here so the same people who freaked told others who didn't and of course, people who've been with me spread the word..." He laughs. "I get told it can't possibly be as big as they've heard."

"Ha!" Stephen laughs again. "Look at you, I think that's the first blush I've ever seen on you Mr Starr!" he accuses. Setting his spoon down Stephen leans in and sets his chin in his palm, elbow to the table top. "Am I going to get hate mail for taking you off the market?"

"You might," Antony says, tilting his head and smiling at his lover. "But they had their chances."

"And I won the jackpot," Stephen muses softly. "Cock and all," he adds mischievously.

Antony laughs. "Yeah, you did. Speaking of which... should I give Louis a call?"

"I'm ready when you are," Stephen nods. "Just need the washroom." He drops his napkin on the table and stands up, pausing to drain his champagne glass before heading to the bathroom, he gives Antony's shoulder a quick squeeze as he passes.

Antony watches Stephen go, smiling at the squeeze before he pulls his phone out and texts Louis. _Ready when you are._

He sips at the last of his champagne, finally draining the glass, the thought of another refill quickly quashed when he contemplates his intentions for after the ceremony. His phone buzzes and he tilts it toward him. _Be right there_.

Stephen takes a moment, after pissing and washing up, to look at himself in the vanity mirror. He has a slight flush from the alcohol, but other than that he looks - normal. Normal. When he's minutes from giving himself to his dominant - permanently. It's almost like he expects to see something different about himself.

"C'mon Steve...let's do this, you know it's what you want," he murmurs to himself. One last tie adjustment and then he's back out, to find Antony on his feet.

"Louis is on his way up," Antony tells him, struck again by just how gorgeous Stephen is. How fucking lucky _he_ is.

"Okay, so do I need to know anything? Do anything?" Stephen asks, watching his lover. He's suddenly feeling very fidgety, like he should know what to do or say.

"No." Antony shakes his head. "Louis'll say a few words, then I will and you can if you want, but don't feel you have to. I don't want this to be completely casual but I also don't want it to be really formal either. This is about you and me," he says, pulling Stephen in close and kissing him softly.

Sliding his arms around Antony's waist, Stephen returns the kiss, keeping it soft and tender - he's certain there will be plenty of rough and ready later on. Pulling back he nuzzles at Antony's mouth for a few moments before murmuring a quiet. "I love you."

"I love you too," Antony whispers back, holding Stephen close before there's a knock at the door. "It's open," he calls out, since they've had servers in and out during dinner.

Louis smiles and sticks his head through the door, never entirely certain of such an invitation. "Bonsoir," he says, letting himself in, a small pang of envy striking him at the sight of the two men embracing. He misses Bradley.

"Bonsoir, my friend," Antony says, giving Stephen one more kiss before he goes to Louis, pecking both cheeks in turn, the other man looking absolutely perfect as always in his dark grey suit, white shirt and black and white mini polka-dot tie. Fuck. Only Louis could get away with that tie.

"Louis!" Stephen grins and steps up to embrace his new friend. "It's so good to see you again, and thank you for doing this, it means so much to us both," he pulls away and moves beside Antony. "Tony's kept me in the dark about all of it so far," he admits.

"He told me you didn't want a large crowd but he wanted to do something special so I offered to officiate a little and witness your signatures in person," Louis says, smiling at the pet name, one he's never heard used for Antony.

"Well, I hardly know anyone into the lifestyle I can share this with," Stephen admits, glancing at his lover. "But it's not about other people is it? It's about us." He reaches out to take Antony's hand.

Antony smiles at that, linking their fingers and giving Stephen's hand a squeeze. "Is there anything you need before we start?" he asks Louis. "Would you like a glass of champagne?"

"Merci but I will pass," Louis says. "I was tasting wines downstairs and I'm at my limit if I'm going to do justice to your ceremony." He nods towards the coffee table. "You have the collars and your contract?"

Antony nods. "And a pen to sign it with." He's seen more than a few ceremonies come to an abrupt halt while people search for one.

At that Stephen laughs. "Always organised, always thorough hmmm?" he teases Antony, bumping his shoulder.

"Good thing he already knows that," Louis says, joining in the teasing.

Antony rolls his eyes at them both, even though he doesn't really mind being kidded. "Somebody has to be."

"Might as well be you then huh?" Stephen grins, more than a teeny bit excited now.

Antony just shakes his head, amused. "Are we doing this?" he asks Louis, giving him a look.

"Mais oui," Louis responds with a smile, moving in front of the coffee table and gesturing for the men to stand in front of him.

Antony holds onto Stephen's hand, giving it another squeeze and his lover, his boy, a smile.

Stephen takes a deep breath, eyes for Antony and Antony alone now. "I'm nervous," he admits.

"Me too," Antony confesses, "but I've also never been more sure of anything either."

"Me too," Stephen murmurs in response, not wanting to let go of Antony's hand, but unsure of what he should do next.

Louis smiles, watching them. "I'll start," he says softly, taking a deep breath. "First of all, I would like to express to you both how happy I am for you and how honoured I am to be here, sharing in this special moment and in your happiness."

Antony gives Stephen's hand another squeeze.

"I've known Antony for a long time," Louis continues, "and I know him to be a good man, a honourable man, one who friends can lean on and trust in times of hardship, and more than all that, one who deserves to have someone who loves him and desires his ownership."

Stephen smiles at that, eyes on Antony's face. He thinks briefly of how Antony came to Ian's rescue and how it had made him feel to have a partner that others could rely on so thoroughly and then he's nodding at the words about loving Antony and wanting to be his.

"And Stephen. I haven't known you for long but we've talked enough that I think I have a good sense of the man you are. Honest, attractive, intelligent, loyal, a hard-worker who wants to please both at work and at home. I've watched the way the two of you talk to each other, the way you smile at each other and I have no doubt, particularly because I know how long you have both looked to find someone like each other, even if you didn't know you were looking," he adds with a pointed glance at Antony, "that I am certain you are well-matched and that you enter this agreement today with your hearts open to each other, looking to own and be owned, love and be loved."

Fuck. Chest tight, Antony's holding onto Stephen's hand harder than he probably should be. He'd asked Louis to say a few words, but this...

Stephen's heart is hammering hard, this... this is perfect, and the way Antony holds so tight on to his hand gives Stephen the knowledge that his lover, his Sir is as moved as he is. He rubs his thumb over the back of Antony's hand, a soothing gesture.

"Antony?" Louis prompts, his hands folded in front of him.

Antony nods. He turns to face Stephen, his heart thumping something fierce. "My turn," he says with a smile, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "It's my intent to offer you my collar as a sign of my ownership of you and of your submission to me. Are you willing to accept my collar?"

"Yes Sir I am, I offer you my submission. I gift you all that I am, and all that I can be. I also offer you my love and loyalty," Stephen replies sincerely, his voice low, but sure and steady.

Antony's chest tightens again and he swallows hard. He's not an actor, at least not any more than's required by his work, but he wants to do this justice, wants to make sure he doesn't fuck up a single word. He nods. "Thank you." He smiles at both men. God. "I have two collars for you," he says, holding his hand out to Louis who hands him the top box, which he opens and shows to Stephen. "This is the one you'll wear when we're not together or when we're in mixed company. It has your slave number engraved on the back, hidden from sight but always there."

Stephen's eyes fall on the box, he watches as Antony opens it and his eyes widen at the collar. "Oh...I..I love it," he breathes, reaching out to stroke over [the silver chain](http://citadel.mediawood.net/stephenaway.jpg). "Thank you Sir," he glances up to meet Antony's eyes. "Thank you."

It's exactly the reaction he was hoping for and Antony outright grins at Stephen, eyes sparkling. He only hopes his boy likes the second collar as much. He closes the box and hands it back to Louis who exchanges it for the second one. "And this is your _at home_ collar," he says, opening the black velvet box, his gaze locked on Stephen's face, awaiting his reaction.

It's a 'proper' collar, [a slave collar](http://citadel.mediawood.net/stephenslave.jpg), perfect for a boy who loves to be debased and humiliated, a constant reminder of his status. Stephen catches his lower lip between his teeth and nods, unable to speak. He looks up once more and nods again, overwhelmed and choked on emotion.

Good. Antony nods again, his voice thicker when he speaks again. "With your acceptance of my collar and the placing of it around your throat, I vow to do everything I can to be worthy of you. I promise to hold you and keep you safe, to respect the needs of our relationship above all others, to love, honour and support you in all things and to be sensitive to your needs and desires."

Swallowing hard, Stephen manages a hoarse "Thank you," he nods and tries to speak, then laughs as he reaches up to wipe wet from his eyes. "I..I er want to say more...but I'm all kinds of speechless here, so...everything you said...I promise that too." Then Stephen sinks to his knees.

Antony stands there, staring at Stephen for a moment, his cock filling despite himself. He runs a hand through Stephen's hair, cups his cheek, takes in the sight of him on his knees, like this, freezing it in his mind. "I want you naked to the waist," he orders.

"Of course Sir," Stephen nods, first his tie, curls up around his hand and set on the coffee table top, then his jacket, folded set aside, then he pops his cuffs and the shirt buttons before sliding the shirt from his shoulders, folding it to set with the jacket, not once does he break eye contact with his Sir, when he's done he sets his hands on his thighs, palms up - a classic leather pose of total submission.

Stephen looks beautiful, his posture perfect, and Louis smiles, watching the men in front of him.

Antony removes the collar and the padlock from the box, handing the box back to Louis. He takes another deep breath, letting it out slowly, the words he had planned a jumble in his head. "I value the trust you have placed in me... and I recognize and accept the responsibility that goes with that trust, swearing never to betray it. And I accept with all my heart the gift of submission you have made to me. This collar," he says, running his fingers over the links, "is a symbol of what we already know: that you are mine, owned, and that by wearing it you will always be loved, cherished and protected." He smiles at Stephen. "Do you accept this collar in the spirit by which it is given you?"

"Yes Sir I do, with everything I am. Thank you for the honour of it," Stephen smiles back, his joy in this moment writ plain on his face.

Antony places the chain collar around Stephen's throat, his cock giving a rough throb at the sight, and fastens the padlock into place, his breath stolen, gone for a long moment at the significance of it all. "You're mine now. Forever. I own you," he says softly.

"You own me," Stephen nods, voice thick. "This is something I thought I would never have, and to be owned by a man such as you? I feel truly blessed Sir."

"It's mutual," Antony murmurs, staring down at Stephen for another long moment before he realizes how rude he's being with Louis there, waiting for them. "And we have one more thing to do," he says, gesturing towards the table and the contract.

Finally emerging from that intimate bubble that was just Antony and himself, Stephen turns to the table, glancing up at Louis with a huge smile on his face. He picks up the pen and offers it first to his Sir.

Antony takes the pen and signs the contract, dating it for today. They'd only ended up making two changes - Stephen's surrender of his safeword and his being prepared to engage in sexual activity with third parties, provided it's pre-negotiated and Antony is always present and running the scene/encounter. Oddly, Antony's not sure whether he wants to take advantage now that they've changed it, but at least it's in there, a possibility, and he's happy with how it's worded. Happy that Stephen's only okay with it _with_ Antony present and in charge.

His signature appended, he hands over the pen to Stephen and stands back, flashing a grin at Louis. He wasn't able to attend Louis and Bradley's collaring ceremony because of work but he's sure Louis must have felt much the same way as he does now.

Stephen swiftly signs his own signature next to Antony's, aware his hands are trembling just a little. When he's done he offers the pen to Louis, and turns the contract around for their friend to witness. So far this evening has been everything he might have wished for, planned to perfection, the food, the intimacy, the collars...and his gorgeous Sir.

Louis signs the contract with a flourish and pops it back into the manila envelope. "I'll take this with me," he says. "Make sure it gets sealed and stamped tonight, put on file, you'll both get digital copies and I'll send the original back to Antony by courier." He smiles. "Congratulations. I wish you both the very best of everything."

"Thank you for coming," Antony says, shaking Louis's hand and pecking both cheeks again. "I really appreciate you doing this for us. Give Bradley my best?"

Although he's not been given leave to stand, he's more concerned in showing disrespect by not rolling to his feet to thank Louis himself. He offers his hand, and in perfectly accented French he offers his own gratitude. "Thank you so much, it means a great deal to me that you were here for us."

"It was my pleasure," Louis assures them both, shaking Stephen's hand. "And now I'll leave you to enjoy the rest of the evening," he says with a smile.

Antony sees him out and locks the door behind him. He turns to look at Stephen, his eyes trailing over his boy, lingering on the collar around his neck, the padlock against his throat. "Happy?" he asks, because it's important to him that Stephen is, that tonight, so far, was everything Stephen wanted.

"Happy doesn't even start to describe how I'm feeling right now," Stephen smiles broadly. Lifting his hand he fingers the collar. "I love this, I love that from now on, I will always have something around my throat that proclaims your ownership,"

Antony smiles, moving closer. "It looks good on you."

"Yes it does," Stephen agrees, eyes on his lover, his Sir. "So, do I have to call you Master now?" He jokes softly, holding out his hand for Antony.

"Do you want to?" Antony teases back, taking Stephen's hand and pulling him in close.

"Not really, it sounds pretentious to me, and that's not something anyone could ever accuse you of," Stephen presses close, his lips still curved in a smile as he nuzzles at Antony's mouth. "Permission to kiss Sir?"

"Permission granted," Antony murmurs, cock filling to full thickness again, the press of his boy's body lighting him up.

A little shiver of delight and Stephen opens his mouth to press it against Antony's. His hands come up and he slides his hands around Antony's waist, under his jacket, but over his shirt. He splays his fingers and uses it as leverage to rub himself against Antony's erection.

Antony groans into the kiss, grinding back, a small voice in the back of his head reminding him he has plans. He could care less though. He'll get to those, right now, this, fuck, he deepens the kiss, tongue plundering Stephen's mouth, his own hand dropping to his boy's ass, hiking him against his cock.

A soft whine of need rumbles up Stephen's throat, and he clings tighter, the air is now charged with sexual tension. He wants his Sir, his lover, but he also knows that Antony likely has plans. Finally Stephen pulls back, a little breathless, a lot flushed. "Is this...is this what you wanted?" he asks.

"Always," Antony responds, keeping Stephen close. "But if you're wondering if I had specific plans... the answer'd be yes."

"Then I don't want to derail them," Stephen murmurs, resisting the urge to press his mouth back against Antony's lips.

Antony grins. "I want you naked and on your knees at the end of the bed in the other room," he says, giving Stephen one more kiss. "I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Yes Sir," And doesn't that feel good in Stephen's mouth. He steps back and makes his way into the bedroom, smiling at how this is a much more high end room than they usually use when they play at the club. He strips naked, folding and setting aside his clothes neatly before pulling a rug out to the end of the bed and sinking, happily, to his knees. Once in posture, Stephen takes a deep breath, and when he lets it go, he lets go of all his tension too.

It might not be appropriate for the room but Antony's been waiting to do this for a while. He changes out of his suit, everything nicely folded and set on the couch for later, and pulls on dark green camo pants, a tight black t-shirt, a thigh rig with a fake Glock (helpfully supplied and modified by Citadel) and lastly, his own well-worn black leather combat boots. Leaves his tags and his new ring on, a glance at his hand making him smile. "Here we go," he murmurs to himself, curious to see Stephen's reaction as he steps into the bedroom.

Glancing over at the movement at the door, the smile doesn't even make it half way on his face before Stephen's eyes widen...taking in the camo wear, the gun, the boots...in seconds he's trembling, his breath hitching as his heart rate kicks up. His dick is hard in moments and his eyes have darkened as his pupils blow wide. A small soft sound escapes his throat, unbidden and Stephen's not even aware of it as he takes in the perfection that is his ultimate fantasy made real.

"Yes, boy?" Antony can't help it. It's almost a smirk, his cock rearing up, straining against his zipper at Stephen's response. "You have something you want to say?"

Stephen blinks, opens his mouth and then snaps it shut again, and some how his eyes widen just a little further as he shakes his head - utterly lost for words.

Antony walks towards Stephen, closing the distance between them, his eyes flickering from his boy's face to that hard cock between his thighs, all of it verification that this is one of the best fucking ideas he's ever had. Standing right in front of Stephen, he looks at his boy for a long moment then cups the back of his head, pulling Stephen in, his face ground against the ridge of his own erection.

One moment his head is tilted back to look up at his Sir, the next his face is being smothered by warm fabric which covers a rock hard cock - a huge, rock hard cock. Eyes closed, mouth open Stephen whimpers into his Sir's flesh, he's already lost to subspace, all there is for Stephen right now, is this man.

"Cock or boots, boy?" Antony demands, pressing a little harder. "You're only getting your mouth on one."

Another whimper...because _FUCK_ , Stephen's initial thought, his natural reaction, is the boots, but to choose that means he only gets to pleasure himself, indulge in his own fantasy - if he picks the other...well then he pleasures his Sir...which is how it should be. As a good, obedient boy his Sir's pleasure must always come before his own. "Cock Sir....thank you," is his vaguely slurred and muffled response.

The answers shocks the hell out of Antony. Pleases him too. He _knows_ Stephen wanted to say boots, that boots like the ones his sir's wearing are his boy's cast iron kink, but instead he's chosen Antony's pleasure over his own. Christ. "I am so fucking proud of you," he murmurs, unzipping his pants. "Get me off quickly and maybe I'll reconsider; let you have the boots too."

Stephen didn't need the added incentive - but it’s a helluva added bonus - just the suggestion he may still get what he's craving. The praise too, adds a whole new layer of warm fuzziness to his head - and before Antony's even finished exposing himself Stephen's mouthing hungrily at his Sir's dick. Sloppy and greedy, just how Sir likes it.

Antony groans, head going back, his hands in Stephen's hair, fingers dragging over his scalp. Fuck, he loves this. Love the way Stephen's so fucking hungry for his cock. He pushes in, giving Stephen some room to do what he wants, for now, his own urge to just _take_ held at bay. "That's it," he murmurs approvingly. "My greedy little fuck-toy."

A soft moan around the thick flesh, and Stephen gives himself up to his Sir. He sucks, laves the throbbing erection with his tongue, his hands come up to press into the warm fabric covering his Sir's thighs, using that touch to steady himself as he works his head up and down.

"Good boy. Fuck," Antony groans, starting to thrust, to push deeper, hands cupping Stephen's skull.

Relaxing his throat, Stephen allows Antony all the access he needs, he's learnt to control his gag reflex, so he tilts his head and lets the drool spill out from the corners of his mouth, down over his chin, he opens his eyes to look up at his Sir...dazed, used and utterly blissed out.

Antony gasps, pleasure thrumming through him, his balls drawing up tight, eyes locked on his boy's face, on the wet smearing his skin. "My boy, my fuck-toy, _mine_ ," he growls, managing another half dozen thrusts, hard and deep, before he comes, cock spurting hot and thick.

Now Stephen chokes a little, a small panicked gurgle before he swallows, throat working reflexively to clear the jizz so he can breathe, his fingers pluck at the combats until he has himself back under control, settling again to focus not on how close he was to not being able to breathe, but the subtle 'pulsepulse' from his Sir's dick as it rests in his mouth.

Antony stays right where he is, savouring the feel of his boy's hot wet mouth around him, hands still cupping his head, keeping him in place. "You still want your mouth on my boots, boy?" he murmurs, eyes sparkling.

Stephen blinks, then gives one small nod. Of course he does, and he knows Antony knows that too. All there is for Stephen in the world right now is his Sir, his taste, his smell, his touch...

Antony's cock gives another rough throb and he releases his hold on Stephen's head, giving his boy his movement again. "Then you get down there and you make it good. I have to wear these for my next job and I want them fucking _glistening_."

Stephen pulls back, letting Antony's dick slide free of his mouth, he clears his throat, swallows and murmurs a soft "Yes Sir," before shuffling back so he can bend down. The scent of the leather hits him first, and Stephen allows himself a few moments of just nuzzling the dome of the toe, before he starts in on his task. He licks and kisses the smooth black leather, twisting his head this way and that to make sure no part of the boot goes unattended, and with one done he turns his attention to the other.

Antony's cock barely has time to start softening before it's filling again, the sight before him one so arousing it steals his breath away. "That's it. That's a good pig," he murmurs, eyes heavy-lidded as he takes in every lick, every swipe of tongue, every fucking sound his boy makes as he puts /everything/ into the task at hand.

Stephen worships the boots, each get the same amount of attention, he's lost in the quiet buzz of his subspace, totally unaware of the soft noises he's making, or the way his cock is spilling a little more than just precum over the rug beneath him. He is aware of only two things - the boots beneath his mouth, and the sound of his Sir's voice.

"When you're finished, I want you on your back, legs spread, arms above your head," Antony orders, not even close to being done with his boy.

 _Finished?..._ Stephen could do this for hours...but even in his less than coherent state he knows what his Sir means by his words...so with huge reluctance Stephen starts to pull back when he knows he's cleaned the boots enough to satisfy even the most stringent inspection. But with a small moan he moves back in for one last nuzzle, one last kiss, one last taste...

Seeing just how much Stephen truly loves this has all sorts of plans fermenting in Antony's mind. But right now, right here? "Boy..."

A swallowed back whimper, a moments stillness, and then Stephen is moving to lay on his back - as directed- splaying his legs - as directed - and he lets his gaze move slowly, reverently up the line of his Sir's body, taking in the outfit, the cock already hard again, until he reaches Antony's face, his eyes.

"Look at you..." Fuck. Antony had known the collar would look perfect on Stephen, but he hadn't realized how perfect until now. "So fucking hard from licking my boots," he says, moving between Stephen's thighs, one leather toe lifted to nudge at Stephen's cock, press it hard against his belly.

"I...this boy...this boy could cum from it..." Stephen admits his voice low and throaty with arousal, "If he had permission..." he grunts as that perfect boot traps his cock, and his lips part, giving him a look of utter surrender.

"Is that so?" Antony murmurs, eyes darkening, the sole of his boot pressed flat against Stephen's cock now, grinding hard.

The low needy noises Stephen had been making, morph swiftly into whines of pain, but he doesn't flinch or try to pull away, he simply continues to hold his Sir's gaze and gifts him his honest reactions...his pain, his pleasure...

Antony presses harder for a moment, putting his weight into it, gaze locked on Stephen's, then draws back, placing his foot back on the floor. "Turn over," he orders. "Same position. Cock where I can reach it."

Stephen doesn't want to turn over, because that means he loses that visual contact with his Sir, but he doesn't hesitate, he pushes up and rolls over, reaching down to push his cock from under him, it's uncomfortable for sure, but he makes sure it's as available as possible to his Sir, before settling his weight down onto the floor, his legs splayed, his arms up by his head.

Antony walks around Stephen, taking in how still his boy holds himself, how fucking hard he still is. He does a complete 360 and then moves between Stephen's legs, nudges his cock and balls with his boot. Presses down on them again, letting Stephen have his weight in slowly increasing increments, every fibre of his being centred on his boy, on his reactions, on just how much he can take without risking any real damage.

Stephen is acutely aware of his Sir moving around him, each step, he can almost feel Sir's eyes on him. Then his Sir is back between his thighs, one of those beautiful boots nudges at his dick before it starts to crush him again only this time it's against the hard floor rather than the softness of his belly. His breath hitches, and as the pressure increases his fingers claw up against the wooden floor, until they are balled in fists and his shoulders are tense as he braces himself against what has moved from discomfort to very real pain.

"You like this, boy? You like giving me your pain?" Antony says, pressing harder still, until he's put as much weight as he dares on Stephen's cock and balls.

"Yes," The word gasped out, Stephen's face screwed up tight in response to the exquisite torture. "Yes Sir..." he adds moments later, panting a little as he holds himself so still.

Antony nods at the answer, the words thrilling him, both stunned and proud that Stephen hasn't begged him to stop. Most other men would have. Christ. He pulls his foot back and crouches down, wrapping his hand around Stephen's cock and stroking it.

"Oh...oh ff..." Stephen's breath stutters along with is words at the touch, his Sir's skin on his own, on his cock...sends little shivers of pleasure up along his shaft, counteracting the pain he's still feeling in his balls. "Thank you...boy thanks you..."

"I bet boy does," Antony murmurs, keeping his strokes long and easy. "So... boots and camo do it for you... what about guns?" he asks, releasing Stephen's cock to pull the Glock from its holster, run the muzzle between Stephen's cheeks.

Stephen's mewling softly as Antony strokes him, and when he stops it takes Stephen more than a few moments to catch up, his brain is just that mushy from the pleasurepain.

"G...gun?" He stutters, unsure, a small thread of fear worming it's way through his belly.

"Yeah," Antony nods, nudging the muzzle a little harder against Stephen's hole. "I'm willing to bet it does. That you'd get off on how fucking wrong this is..." His other hand fishing for the small tube of lube stashed in his pocket.

"Oh god..no...please...no...." And despite the wrongness, the inherent fear of a fucking gun being pressed against him, Stephen can't help how his skin pinkens with a fresh blush of arousal, or how his hole flutters against the cool metal. "No..please no..."

"No? You don't sound very convincing," Antony murmurs, pulling the gun back to thickly slick the barrel with lube. "Not when this," he smacks the back of Stephen's cock with his hand, "is still so fucking hard."

The sound Stephen makes is that of a smothered sob, he's aroused and in pain, and then there's the threat of the gun...and all of it is making his head spin, his body thrum with want.

"And now you're not bothering to deny it at all," Antony says, rubbing the slicked muzzle against Stephen's hole again. "Greedy little cunt."

Licking over his lips, Stephen presses his hands flat to the floor, eyes closed he huffs out a breath and his ass comes up to meet the gun, moments later he's making a subtle fucking motion with his hips. "Fuck this boy...fuck the pig, please..please..." _Debase me...break me...humiliate me..._

His cock gives a rough throb at the words, the begging, the need behind them and Antony pushes the first inch of the barrel into Stephen's hole, fucking it in and out, just enough to make his boy want more, the sight of it so wrong, so fucking nasty he has to bite back his own moan.

"Moreplease...more...please...fuck it..fuck its hole..." Stephen rambles, arching his ass higher still, seeking out more of the cold metal inside his ass.

"It doesn't have a hole," Antony says, but he pushes the gun deeper anyway. Fucking it in harder, as far as it can go, the barrel filed smooth. "It has a cunt. A dirty nasty greedy little cunt."

Grunting at each push of metal, Stephen's face is flushed hard from humiliation, sweat beads over his skin as he moves with the thrust, gifting his Sir with the use of his body and each sound, each pitiful plea for more - always _more._

"I should have set up to tape this," Antony tells him. "Should have set it up so you could watch yourself later. See the way your cunt's just begging to be fucked. The way you're pleading for me to shove this gun in harder, fuck your nasty cunt, you dirty fuckpig, fucking cock dripping all over the floor. I'm gonna make you lick up every last fucking drop."

The whine starts low, almost softly, but it builds as Antony talks, until Stephen's keening as he viciously fucks himself back on the gun, not caring if he hurts - or even damages himself, all he's after is the orgasm that is twisting low in his belly, the tension undeniable, the need all consuming.

"That's it, pig. Fuck that cunt," Antony growls, meeting every movement with a thrust of his own, shoving the barrel as deep inside Stephen as it can go. "And you'd better start begging if you want a hope in hell of coming."

"Oh fuck..oh please..pleasepleaseplease, this pig...this pig it needs..it needs to cum, pleaseplease," Stephen rambles barely coherent at all in his desperation. His hips are high enough that the head of his cock is rubbing the smooth wooden floor, smearing precum and more over it.

A wicked grin curves Antony's mouth and he responds, "Not like this," pulling the gun free from Stephen's ass and rocking to his feet.

The loss is sudden and absolute, and Stephen hisses out his displeasure, eyes opening, fists balled against the floor. He sucks in a deep breath and holds it, using that as a focus to gain some semblance of control over his cock.

Antony slides the gun back into its holster and walks around Stephen, stopping with his boots planted directly in front of his boy's face. "You want to come, pig? You do it hands-free, your cunt empty. You find a way to fuck your cock on my boots until you come and then you clean up every last fucking drop with your tongue."

The words, the imagery, the promise, are almost enough for Stephen to shoot his load right there, the boots so close once more, he only has to move his head a few inches before he could kiss that dark leather again. He pushes up on to his hands and knees, turns himself around and then backs up over one of those boots, until the crease of his ass is pressed to Sir's shin, then he lowers himself down and starts to rub his cock and balls against the boot. It's humiliating, it's arousing and it's fucking perfection.

"Christ, you're so fucking filthy," Antony murmurs approvingly, bracing himself, giving Stephen something to work against. "Nothing but a nasty dirty fuck pig, rutting against my fucking boot to get off."

Working himself into a frenzy Stephen gets his ass at just the right angle, so not only is his dick sliding over leather slick with his own precum, but the sensitive skin around his hole - his cunt - is pressed to his Sir's leg. His breathing gets harsher, and then suddenly Stephen bucks once, twice and stills as his cock explodes, spewing ropes of cum over the boot and the floor.

Antony presses the heel of his hand against his own cock, tamping down his arousal as he watches his boy's seed paint both leather and wood. "That's a good cunt," he says finally. "Now lick it up."

He's barely got his breath back, but Stephen croaks out a noise that might be 'Yes Sir' as he moves forward, then turns around, his ass away from his Sir as he dips his head and starts to lick clean the floor - saving the boot for last - wide, broad swipes of his tongue, pauses to swallow and assess his next move - and then all that is left is the boot, Sir's perfect boot, smeared in his own cooling jizz.

"Go ahead, boy," Antony tells him, so fucking hard again he would swear he could cut glass. "You've earned it."

A soft sigh, as Stephen lets the praise wash over him, then he closes that short distance and licks away the cum, savouring the mix of leather and semen before the second lick, then the next, until the boot is clean and he is utterly blissed out.

"One more task, boy, and then you can rest," Antony says, already unzipping his pants. "I want to breed my cunt. Get up and lean over the side of the bed."

Pushing up, Stephen crawls the short distance to the bed, his posture and form are no longer perfect, but he's in no state to censor himself over that, he's running on autopilot while his brain is 'offline'. Splaying himself out, he inches his legs wider, giving his Sir all the access he needs to use him.

"Good boy," Antony murmurs, stepping behind Stephen. He spreads his boy's cheeks with his thumbs, inspecting his already abused hole. It's red, sore-looking, still slick from earlier, and tomorrow Antony'll give him a break, but tonight? Tonight he wants what he wants. Fits cock to hole and pushes deep.

The sound Stephen makes is low and guttural, his body is hyper sensitised and his ass sore from the gun, so it feels like his Sir is trying to rip him in two when he pushes his cock home, not stopping, not easing up until he's balls to ass deep. Stephen fists the bedlinen, his hands tight, the muscles across his upper arms and back taut for the space of several heartbeats until he lets out a long breath and loosens.

Christ. It's so good. "That's it. Let me in," Antony urges, pulling back, right to the tip, before he pushes deep once more. And again. The path easing with every thrust.

As if Stephen could deny this man, his Sir, anything. His body opens up, and he rocks back into each thrust - even if it hurts - even if all he wants to do is collapse in his Sir's arms. Summoning up the last of his strength, Stephen moves with his Sir, making sure he gives everything he has left.

It doesn't take long, not when Antony's this aroused, this already on the edge from everything that's come before. It doesn't matter that he came earlier, when he comes this time, it's with a rough shout, his hips stuttering as his cock spurts, flooding his boy's ass with his seed.

It's the perfect ending to a perfect scene, Stephen's sure he can feel the heat of his Sir's cum deep inside him, marking him, claiming him. He loves the noise Antony makes when he orgasms, it's always so raw and honest and this is no different. Panting, exhausted, Stephen frees one hand, and reaches back to touch his Sir's hip.

Antony places his hand over Stephen's. Drapes himself over his boy and kisses the back of his collar. "Good boy," he murmurs, cock still pulsing through the aftershocks. " _My_ good boy."

And it really hits Stephen then, that this is _it_. This is what he's craved for so fucking long...something he'd been told before he would never be good enough to have...and here he is...owned, properly owned - and loved - by this perfect man who cares so much about him. Squeezing his eyes closed he takes a shuddery breath, sure that the last thing Antony wants right now is to have him dissolve into tears.

With another kiss brushed over Stephen's shoulder, Antony pulls his boy up into his arms and shoves back the covers, gently easing out from Stephen's body. "Get in," he says, helping Stephen into the bed, his own clothes - boots, pants, t-shirt - shed quickly and a bottle of water grabbed from the mini-fridge beside them before he joins him.

Stephen's a little shivery, partly cold, partly a come down from the huge endorphin dump he had experienced during the scene. He curls up tight, only loosening again when Antony joins him in bed, and then he's snuggling in, however he's reticent about getting all grabby hands with his Sir, it's more a hesitant nudging than anything more overt. _Hold me...please..._.

"Hey," Antony murmurs, pulling Stephen in close, the covers wrapped around them, limbs entangled, mouth brushing kisses across whatever skin he can reach. "I can't believe you're mine," he says softly, tracing his fingers over the links of Stephen's collar.

At those words Stephen's fingers press hard into Antony's flesh, his eyes closed as he once more fights against a fresh wave of emotion. "Always," he murmurs his voice thick. "My Sir,"

Antony's chest tightens hard and he kisses the top of Stephen's head. "You want some water?" he asks, the bottle still clutched in his hand.

Shaking his head Stephen presses in tighter. "No, no thank you Sir..." Because that would break this little bubble, he'd have to let go of his Sir, he'd have to push back some of the fog of his subspace.

Antony sets the bottle on the nightstand beside him and wraps his arm back around Stephen, pulling his boy in even closer. "Love you," he murmurs, closing his eyes.

"I love you too, so much," Stephen whispers, his body aches, his ass is sore, but Stephen has never ever been happier than he is right now.


End file.
